


Perfect Enemy

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand
Genre: F/F, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9890867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Lucretia drives Ilithyia up the wall. Sometimes literally.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Lucretia/Ilithyia, against a wall

She doesn’t know how, but the conversation takes a turn. Somehow, they get from exchanging veiled insults to Lucretia forcing her up against the wall, holding her in place by the shoulders. She meets Lucretia’s hot gaze and smirks. Lucretia’s grip tightens – not enough to hurt, but enough to threaten – and Ilithyia forgets what it was she was about to say. Lucretia reminds her of a fierce animal, a lioness with perfect posture but capability to kill, sink in her claws.

Ilithyia moistens under Lucretia’s stare, blue eyes obscuring the fire behind them. She _wants_. And what Ilithyia wants, she gets.

Their lips meet in frenzied coupling, seizing their own pleasure, taking, taking, taking. Lucretia bites Ilithyia’s lip, sending her body a heatwave of desire. Their kisses are messy, hot, and wet as they claim what they want, their mutual goal as obvious as can be. Ilithyia nips at Lucretia’s lower lip and is rewarded when Lucretia gasps into her mouth. Her breath smells of wine.

The knowledge that she has aroused Lucretia arouses Ilithyia too, and she grabs Lucretia’s hips to bring their bodies closer, her turn to gasp as their breasts brush together. She stops to breathe, and in doing so glimpses out of the corner of her eye a slave backing out of the room with bowed head. She grins.

“Lucretia,” she says, clutching the woman’s hips so hard it should hurt, “are your slaves so weak of mind and stomach they cannot be near your side while you burn with passion?”

Lucretia opens her eyes. “She but obeys orders to give privacy while we tend to unfinished business.”

“Oh,” replies Ilithyia, though she would be hard-pressed to care any less. “If that be so, then we ought to continue this transaction, do you not agree?”

“Indeed.” Lucretia’s eyes sparkle and her expression is unreadable as she leans in again to press her mouth to Ilithyia’s.

They’ve been playing this game for some time now, friends on the surface but enemies underneath, and Ilithyia knows Lucretia enjoys it just as much as she does. Ilithyia sees Lucretia for what she is: a snake who wants nothing more than to elevate herself and her husband above their station. Lucretia plots and schemes, but Ilithyia sees it all. After all, she is not so different from her enemy/friend. They’re alike, and perhaps that is why they need each other, why they cannot stay away. Why they end up like this, fucking out their hatred.

Lucretia holds Ilithyia against the wall with her weight, bodies almost merging they’re so close. Ilithyia’s heart pounds, core tightens as they kiss. She slides her leg between Lucretia’s to part them, then slips her hand through the folds of Lucretia’s gown. Lucretia has the same idea, and Ilithyia rocks her hips as fingers dip inside her wetness before coming to rub her clit. She bites Lucretia’s lip, hard enough to leave a bruise, and touches Lucretia’s clit with a dry thumb, pressing two fingers inside her cunt.

Legs interwoven, their bodies rock together, hips bucking against hands. Heat rises in Ilithyia’s stomach, and when her legs tremble, she places her free hand on the wall behind her to steady herself. She continues to thrust inside Lucretia as they rub each other’s clits, Lucretia too supporting herself with a hand on the wall.

Lucretia’s walls clench around Ilithyia’s hand, and she notes with glee that Lucretia comes first, brought to climax by skilled hand, moaning and arching her back, hair damp around her face. The sight aids Ilithyia, and soon she too is arching her back against the wall and gasping out her pleasure as it rolls over her in waves.

They remove hands from between thighs, straighten clothes, and smooth back hair. Ilithyia can still feel Lucretia’s heat.

“Like wine,” declares Lucretia, “you improve with time.”

Ilithyia fights to refrain from scowling. “You do not.”

Lucretia cups Ilithyia’s cheek and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “There is no higher to climb when one is already at the summit.”

Just like that, they’re back to insults, although Ilithyia finds Lucretia to be cleverer than her in the afterglow, a fact she must learn to remedy. The game is on, and the best time for the lioness to strike is when her prey is most vulnerable. Ilithyia will never let herself be vulnerable. She will never be prey.


End file.
